


If I Die Before I Wake

by Professor_Fluffy



Series: Stony Non-Kink One-Shot Prompt Fills [2]
Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Angst, F/M, M/M, Now with a Fix-It, Other, Temporary Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-11
Updated: 2013-04-15
Packaged: 2017-12-08 03:21:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/756429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Professor_Fluffy/pseuds/Professor_Fluffy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt Fill: I'd like to offer a prompt. I'd love to see the Avengers trapped in a room where the air is running out and they are slowly suffocating to death, and see what they say to each other, as they believe they have reached the point of their last words. I'd prefer to see Steve and Tony in one room and Clint and Natasha in another (frankly I can't see this working for Bruce or Thor) but I'll leave it up to you how you group them up. Save them or let them die, your choice too.)</p><p> I am a horrible person. I'm sorry.</p><p>Chapter 2: Now With a Fix-It! Enjoy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_Now I Lay Me Down to Sleep_

Steve and Tony could only ignore the thing growing between the for so long. They’d gone from exhausting verbal battles, to something that merited an “it’s complicated” status update on facebook. Facebook updates were Steve’s jurisdiction Tony hated Facebook. He refused to sign up for an account under an alias just to send Steve virtual gifts. Steve loved social networking. He had a farm full of dead plants, liked to play tank games, and apparently pwned at something called Bloons, one of Clint's personal favorites. Tony’s mockery was incessant. Steve just ignored it and continued to exchange ‘pokes’ with the younger members of the Carter clan. He also received the occasional instant message from Peggy, she was the one who'd helped him sign up for facebook in the first place. 

There were long lunches, and short lunches, and Steve bringing Tony plates of sushi down in the workshop when he’d had some sort of breakthrough. If Steve were to stop lying to himself, Tony covered in grease and motor oil wasn’t an unpleasant viewing experience, even if Tony did take more pride in parading around in custom Valentino’s, smarming up the place like he was some sort of Errol Flynn.  
  
“You’re insatiable.” 

Steve eyed Tony over the last piece of spider roll, his chopsticks poised mid-air. Tony laughed and waved his hand. Steve snagged the piece and popped it in his mouth, licking a bit of sauce from the corner of his lips. 

“Did you get the matcha ice?” Tony asked, scribbling an equation on the tablet next to his plate. 

“Matcha for you, coconut for me,” Steve grinned, heading for the freezer.

“Barbarian.” 

Steve set a bowl on the table in front of Tony. “Says the guy who likes chocolate jalapeno gelato.” 

“It’s an acquired taste.”

“Yeah, if you’re in your third trimester.” Steve ducked his head, licking a bit of coconut ice cream off his spoon.

Tony ran his hands over the flat plane of his stomach, “are you implying that I’m fat?”

Steve quirked an eyebrow, "you have missed a few sparring sessions.”

“Listen here, Sleeping Beauty...”

Their coms went off simultaneously, and the alert stations scattered throughout the workshop began blaring Avengers Assemble and flashing red warning lights.

“Damn.” Tony set his cup down. “Meet you out there.” 

It was freezing as Steve darted down the tarmac, hopping onto the metal platform with ease. Clint was sitting in one of the chairs, yanking his boots on, and even Natasha had an impressive amount of bed head as she strapped a roll of thin knives to her thigh. 

“What’s going on,” Steve asked, dropping into the chair and double checking his own supplies. 

“Red Skull is back.”

Steve sucked in a harsh breath. “What? How is that even possible?” 

Natasha typed in their coordinates. “We’re not sure Cap, but there have been sightings in Russia for about three months. A man with a hideously deformed skull-like face has been kidnapping babies. We recently had an operative return with new information, enough to merit Fury calling us in on this one. Red Skull is developing a new serum, he thinks the weak and undeveloped immune systems of infants make them viable candidates for experimentation. Fury thinks Schmidt is looking for a new human vessel. From the information we’ve gotten so far, he seems to think that the serum may have worked on you because you were already immunocompromised by the diabetes and some of the other ailments you suffered as a child.” Steve closed his eyes. Natasha patted him on the shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

When the landed in Germany, the team donned furs. It technically wasn’t full winter yet, but it was cold enough. 

“We’re going to have to hoof it from here. The compound is about a day and a half out. We’ll lose radio contact at some point.” Natasha said, yanking a furred parka over her head. 

At one point, Clint spotted a malnourished rabbit. He brought it down with a single kill shot. Tony made gagging noises, but Steve nodded approvingly. They could use the meat and conserve some of their rations for later. 

When they made it to the halfway point, they agreed to stop for the night. They were still far enough afield that Natasha agreed a small campfire probably wouldn’t hurt anything. Steve was carrying the brunt of their supplies, which included a small amount of conditioned wood meant for cooking. Natasha tossed melted snow in the pot to boil while Clint went to relieve himself in the brush. When he returned, he began gutting the rabbit.

“Dibs on the liver.” Tony said. 

Clint smirked, “Oh, so now you’re hungry. Tell you what Stark, use your gauntlet to get the fire started, and maybe I’ll give you a share. But you’re still eating the gamey meat just like the rest of us. Clint began wrapping potatoes in foil and set them next to the other packets.” 

Tony grabbed one of the starter logs and some flint out of his pack, giving Clint the stink eye. “I’m not using a multi-million dollar piece of precision equipment to start a campfire, asshole.”

“I’m impressed.” Clint said. “That’s fucking impressive shit right there, Stark.” He tossed several aluminum foil wrapped packets into the firepit and poke at them with a stick.

By the time Clint declared supper ready, Steve had set the tents up. 

“I’ll share with Widow.” Tony grinned cheerfully and nibbled at a bit of rabbit meat.

Natasha took a bite and gave him an unimpressed look. “No.” 

“We’ll share,” Steve said, tapping Tony upside his head with one gloved hand. 

“I didn't know you cared,” Tony batted his eyelashes. 

Steve and Natasha rolled their eyes. 

Tony and Natasha packed the leftovers and cleaned their mess kits after supper, while Steve and Clint scouted the area. They’d all emptied their bladders in different directions around the campsite to ward off animal visitors. 

Tony grabbed two sleeping rolls off of Steve’s gear and shoved them in the tent. The pillows were sacks filled with extra clothing. Steve crawled in next to him, quickly zipping the door. Normally they’d sleep on the ground, but the extreme cold called for something a little sturdier. 

“Fuck it’s cold.” Tony pulled his parka over his head and buried his face in the blankets. He pulled out a tablet, and began tapping away.

“Does that even get reception out here?”

“Fuck no, which is something I intend to rectify as soon as we get home. It’s 2013, we should have global coverage. This is a travesty.”

“Tony.”

“Yes, Steve?”

“Turn it off and go to sleep.”

“I’m not tired.” 

“Would you like me to tell you a bedtime story?”  
Tony chuckled. “Is it an adult bedtime story? I like those.”

Steve plucked the tablet out of his hands and dropped set it on his side of the tent where Tony couldn’t reach it without crawling over him.

Tony had a look on his face that said he wasn’t above trying it, but he just snorted and rolled over, burying his face in the lumpy makeshift pillow. 

He tossed twice. “Steve.”

Steve rubbed his temple. “Yeah?”  
“This pillow is fucking uncomfortable. They had better amenities in Afghanistan.”

Sometimes it was easy to forget that Tony was a civilian, and sometimes it was fairly impossible. “You can sleep on my shoulder if you want,” Steve huffed. 

“Really?”

“We’d both be warmer.”

Tony scooted closer, yanking the sleeping bag with him, and burrowed up next to Steve whose shoulder was solid and definitely more uncomfortable than the lumpy pillow, but he smelled good, and he was warm.  
“Thanks Steve.”

“Will you two shut the fuck up,” Barton yelled across the clearing. “I will stuff a sock in your mouth, Stark, I swear to god.” 

Tony opened his mouth to yell back, but Steve covered his face with his hand. Tony licked his palm, but he stayed quiet when Steve let him go. 

They woke up early, and packed up, heading further north.

“There are no guards outside the place, but that’s not really unusual in this weather. No heat signatures detected.” Tony reported around midday. 

When they arrived, everything was quiet. There were no guards anywhere.  
“This doesn't look good,” Clint said. He drew and arrow and twirled it between his fingers nervously. 

“Iron Man, fly Clint up top see if you can find anything. Widow and I will take the back entrance.” 

“On it.” Tony grabbed Clint and took off for the roof. 

Steve and Natasha took the side door. She was on point, with greater experience at stealth operations. Steve provided cover until Natasha declared each room clear. They were about halfway through the abandoned labs when Tony shouted over the comms and Steve’s earpiece went dead. 

Steve almost jumped when a loud voice boomed behind him. “Welcome Captain America.”

Steve whipped around. Four thick walls dropped from the ceiling, effectively caging them in. Steve slammed his shield into the nearest wall, but it rippled under the impact and remained intact. 

Johann Schmidt’s voice echoed down to them from his perch overhead. “You see I have prepared for your little visit. We have already shown our other guests to their rooms. 

“What did you do? If you hurt them Skull...”

“Now, now, no theatrics, your friends are alive, for now.” 

Natasha was watching them both, her hands curled at her side, assessing.  
The room began to fill with a thick vapor. Natasha pulled her shirt over her mouth and tried not to breath. Steve quickly followed suit. Natasha dropped first, Steve’s system fighting against the drug. 

“Always so stubborn, Captain. Give up.”

“Never,” Steve choked, dropping to his knees next to Natasha. He fought to keep his eyes open. 

When Steve woke up, he was in an underground, sprawled on the floor next to Tony. Tony was stripped of his armor, and Steve’s shield was missing. There was a giant wall down the center of the room, with a projector screen showing images of Natasha and Clint passed out in another room. Steve rubbed his arm. There was a healing mark where they’d clearly dosed him with something other than the gas to keep him from recovering while they dragged him down here. 

“Ah, you’re awake. And I see your other friends are starting to stir. Excellent.” Red Skull’s voice came from a speaker system at the top of the room. Now that Steve was looking, there was the faint outline of an entryway in the ceiling. They were trapped in some sort of underground oubliette. 

“The great Captain America, defeated at last. It pains me to see you brought so low.”

“Let us out of here, Schmidt.”

“Save your breath Captain Rogers, you are going to need it.” Steve could picture his smile. His white teeth. 

“What do you mean?”

“Can’t you feel it, Captain? You are slowly running out of air. I wonder who will die first?”

On the floor next to him, Tony coughed, dry and unnerving.

“Aah, your friend with diminished lung capacity. I had wondered. Perhaps you should say goodbye. Enjoy your stay Captain, I had these rooms prepared just for you.

“Tony.” Steve scrambled toward him. 

Tony looked away. “I heard him. We probably shouldn’t talk. We should conserve our air until S.H.I.E.L.D. gets here.” Neither of them mentioned that there was no way for S.H.I.E.L.D. to arrive any faster than they had. Steve fished some rocks and bits of string out of his pockets and they played a makeshift game of tick-tack-toe to keep their minds occupied. Tony’s coughing grew worse as more time passed. Schmidt didn’t return. Steve tried to keep from panicking for Tony’s sake. 

Steve and Tony watched Clint and Natasha checking the other room for usable weapons, for alternate escape routes, and eventually sinking to the floor, back to back, the line of their spines pressed together. They’d been trained in proper breathing techniques, as a standard procedural requirement for all field agents. They were both putting the exercises to good use, but the oxygen in the room was slowly depleting. 

\--- Room B ---

“Not much left.” Natasha whispered with false casualness. 

“We have another option.” Clint pressed his lips together in a fine white line. He reached into his pocket and drew out an arrowhead. Natasha peered at it without moving her body.

“It’s an emergency tranq, renders the user unconscious in the event of prolonged torture, once you’re out, you’re useless for interrogation until you can be rescued,” he watched her face for a moment, “blissfully unaware of everything around you long enough for an evac team to get to you.” He didn’t have to say or long enough to die a painless death, it hung in the air between them, silent and final. “We’ll be out for twelve hours. Either S.H.I.E.L.D. will finds us, and they administer the antidote, or we’re dead. I call it Pandora. Because at least you go under with some hope.”

“Do it,” she whispered. We’ll use less oxygen if we’re unconscious. We can buy Tony some time.”

Clint snapped the tip off and poured the contents of the hollow into his mouth. He scooted around until they were face to face, and leaned forward to kiss her, slipping her half the dose, tilting their foreheads together as the both swallowed it down. In the other room, Steve looked away. They crawled toward the projector and huddled together, Natasha listing sideways, until her head settled in the crook of Clint’s shoulder, waiting for the slow inexorable weight of drugged sleep to settle over them, waiting to be rescued, waiting to die. 

 

\-- Room A --

Tony was sprawled out on the floor, no longer interested in their game as he struggled for air. His face was pale as he tried to breath around his diminished lung capacity. “I’m sorry.” 

He was making horrible rattling noises that reminded Steve of his asmatic years, his lungs filling with fluid and his airways swelling shut. He felt tears prick at the corner of his eyes, and ran his fingers through Tony’s hair slowly. “For what?”  
“Because I was a coward. I wanted to tell you so many things... It doesn’t matter. All the afternoons we spent together, watching movies, drinking that red sugary swill you’re so fond of” he coughed weakly around a smile, his hand clenching at his side. 

“We shouldn’t talk, it’ll use the oxygen up faster.” 

“I need to say this...” he laughed around a wet spasming cough. “I had such a crush on you when I was little, and I thought I could let it go, let it stay platonic, but you should know... I couldn’t. I can’t.” He shut his eyes and one wet line trails over the curve of his cheek, carving a clean line in the grim embedded in his skin. “Fuck. It hurts.”

Steve is cradling him, wrapped around him, every beat of Tony’s heart a reminder. 

__

_I can’t breathe._  


__

__

Steve grabbed his hand. “I know. It’s ok, Tony. I know.” He leaned forward, brushing Tony’s bangs back, kissing him on his brow, tracing the damp trail running down line of Tony’s cheek with his thumb. “Me too. Please... don’t. When we get out of here, I’m taking you to that steak house, the one you like, and I’m paying, no arguments.” That makes Tony laugh, weak and rasping. 

Tony lifts his arms, and pulls Steve down into an actual press of lips. “It’ll be ok, just please...” Tony cocks his head. “Tell me you’ll let me get to third base on our first date.” 

Steve chuckles weakly, and slowly stretches out on the ground with him, wrapping his legs around Tony careful not to put pressure on his chest. “Are you scared? he asks. Tony shakes his head no.

“I’m not either, as long as I’ve got you.” They’re both lying, and they know it, but their hands are tangled together, and it’s enough, for now. 

Steve’s fingers trace calming circles over Tony’s back as he fades in and out. He can’t tell how much time is passing as his breathing grows labored. At one point, he opens his eyes, and Tony is watching him, his eye are glassy, his lips tinged blue. Steve watches as Tony mouths I love you, a silent, repetitive litany. Steve closes his eyes. 

When Steve opens his eyes again, it could be minutes or hours later, he's lost all sense of time. He’s too weak to stand, and, with dawning horror, he realizes that Tony isn’t breathing. There’s no comforting rise and fall to his chest, no shallow, labored intake of air, more noticeable now in the complete absence of sound. He shoves at Tony’s shoulder weakly. “Tony.” Then a bit harder. “Tony, please.” There is no answer. Steve closes his eyes and touches Tony’s mouth. His lips feel cold and waxy against Steve’s fingers. When he can bring himself to look, Tony’s eyes are empty. He's gone. He runs his fingers over Tony’s eyelids, closing them for the last time, and he chokes on a sob, his vision swimming as he fights to draw air into his lungs.

 

The intercom crackles to life above him. “Congratulations Captain, you are the last living Avenger in this compound, it would be a better feat did we not already know it was possible for you to enter a state of suspended animation. I’m afraid I can’t have you running around trying to extract your revenge. So, now that you have watched your little friends die -- so very touching, I assure you -- it is time for you to return to obscurity. Who knows, perhaps they’ll manage to wake you up again before you reach the core of this miserable planet.” 

“Did you know that your friend Thor has impregnated Jane Foster? What do you think the serum will do to the child of a god? I will take this new body, we have almost perfected the transferal process. Your friend will raise me as his own. If he can’t bring himself to destroy his traitor brother, do you think he will be willing to destroy his son?

Steve’s vision swam. He tried to respond, but his lungs spasmed. His vision blackened around the edges. Something wet splashed his forehead. He looked up at the ceiling as the room started to fill with liquid concrete mix. He used the last of his strength to wrap his arms around Tony's body.


	2. The Window Burns to Light the Way Back Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a Fix-It for If I Die Before I Wake: Tony, Steve, Natasha, and Clint are trapped in the bottom of an oubliette and time is running out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MissBecky is benevolent, so this is your fix-it, if you prefer the angst one-shot, read no further, but if you want a fix-it, this is for you.

Phil slammed the door to Fury’s office shut. “You owe me this one, Commander. I’ve been lying to them for months. I’m not some namby pencil-pusher. Permission to speak freely.”

“Permission granted.” Fury looked up from his paperwork and frowned at Phil, tapping his fingers against the desk.

“This is a rookie mistake. You just sent every bit of progress I’ve made as a handler out into what could very easily be a trap."

Fury's fingers stilled. “You’re out of line.” 

“No, you are.”

Fury’s eye focused on Phil. “You think I don’t know what I'm doing? We didn’t have a choice. Schmidt's been kidnapping children. This is a PR disaster. The Avengers are the only thing standing between Phase 2 and a complete media shitstorm.”

Coulson’s shoulders sagged. “I’ve done everything you asked me to, Nick. Look, this is strictly off the record, and I don’t even know why I’m saying this, but I’ve been sleeping with Clint and Natasha for months. This is beyond personal to me, and now I hear through dated information that you’re sending them into Russia without a handler. You get me out there, and you do it now. With all due respect, Sir, that is not a request. And if you file paperwork indicating that I’m compromised and try to stop me, I’ll go AWOL in a heartbeat.

Fury’s lips thinned, “And if I lock your ass in a cell?”

Coulson stared at him blankly. “You’re welcome to try.” 

Fury shook his head slowly. “Banner is back in town, he’s at Stark Tower, I’d like you to explain the situation to him. Take him with you if you can keep him from going green. I’m also going to send Mannings, Richter, and Fredrickson. Go to Stark Tower, I’ll have a carrier ready to pick you up in two hours. Let’s be clear about this, you owe me one.” 

Phil tapped his chest with two fingers. “Actually, sir, I think we’re about even.” 

“How long have they been gone.”

“Ten hours.”

“Then I want your spec ops guys. Balaris owes me a favor, we’re not hiking in from the designated drop area, you’re parachuting us in.”

“Coulson...”

“Nick.”

They made excellent time, arriving just as the Red Skull was pulling out of the castle in a vintage automobile. “Bomb them. We haven't passed the Avengers anywhere. Something’s wrong. Wipe them out. Use the nets on Schmit. Tony designed them to hold someone with Captain Rogers' strength. Do it now while they’re out in the open. That’s an order.”

They gassed the entire valley. Schmidt tried to make a break for it, but they wrapped him in so much rope he could barely move, dragging him nine hundred feet up, straight into the high security holding bay.

“Where are the Avengers?”

“Your precious Avengers are dead. Perhaps you should have sent someone more competent to handle the situation.”

“Like me?” Coulson asked. “You were lucky. They walked into a trap, didn't they?”

“Luck is fickle is it not?”

Coulson swore. “He’s trying to buy time, we need to get inside, now.” 

Schmit’s face twisted with rage. “They are already dead. You are too late!”

“Shut him up.” 

When they entered the castle, the only sound was a sandy shifting. Coulson took off toward the noise, checking corners and clearing the area as he went. There was a cement mixer slowly pouring into two thin holes in the floor. “Shut it down, Fredrickson.”

The man hurried to obey. 

The holes were blocked by silt. They were each part of two larger cement trapdoors. “Richter, help me get this open. Fredrickson, Mannings, get the other one.” They doors opened easily. Coulson was surprised at the lack of resistance until he realized how deep the rooms were. Anyone below would need a ladder or aerial capabilities to escape, super strength or no. “Richter, get some rope ladders and get back here.” The man took off at a dead run. 

By the time they made it into the pits, Richter and Mannings with Steve and Tony, Coulson, Bruce, and Fredrickson with Natasha and Clint, Steve was starting to stir, he was gasping for air, choking on the concrete that had dripped on his face. His arm was wrapped around Stark, fingers protecting his face from most of the mixture. Clint and Natasha were passed out in the corner, Clint’s hand was wrapped around the arrowhead. Coulson let out the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding and grabbed the syringes he always stored in his pocket protector when he'd worked as Clint or Natasha’s handler. He ran his fingers through Clint’s hair and injected his arm, quickly following suit with Natasha. “Get them out of here.”

Fredrickson began tying elaborate knots around a flat gurny to prepare them for evacuation. “Yes sir.” 

When Coulson made it into the other oubliette, Mannings shook his head apologetically. 

Steve’s eyes were red. His skin was gray where he’d taken a damp towel to the soggy concrete mix. His hands were trembling. “Don’t bother. He’s gone.”

Coulson closed his eyes. 

“Sir?”

He frowned at Richter. “You’d better have a damned good reason...”

“I think Mr. Stark is still alive, sir.” 

Steve’s eyes widened. “What?”

“I’ve seen this before, it... I think he’s been poisoned, he has an extremely light pulse, but it’s there.

“Agent Richter, that doesn’t make any sense, he’s been locked down here the entire time...”

Steve’s clenched his fingers and took a deep breath. “He’s right, I didn’t do more than a cursory check, I couldn’t feel anything, but I was oxygen deprived at the time. Could he... is he...?” He wanted, so badly, to believe. 

Mannings held up Tony’s bracelet, “Agent Coulson, I think you should take a look at this. 

Coulson turned the metal band over in his hand. The back was loose, revealing a shallow compartment with six tiny slots. The slot labeled tetrodotoxin was empty. “Dr. Banner, please come over here.” 

Bruce took one look at the bracelet and snapped the tip labeled fampridine and jammed the exposed needle tip into Tony’s arm. “It was purely hypothetical, I didn’t think he’d actually...”

Steve gave him a look. 

Bruce took a deep breath. “We were joking around at lunch one day, and we ended up having a conversation, kind of like the theoretical zombie apocalypse things people do, about how we’d avoid torture if we were ever captured. We’re not exactly S.H.I.E.L.D. agents.” Bruce gave Coulson an apologetic look at they hauled Tony onto a gurney. “He may not live, Steve, I don’t want to get your hopes up. But there is a chance, I’m so sorry. I didn’t think...” 

Steve looked away. “Just tell me, what the hell is this?”

“We started talking about different poisons, I am first and foremost a chemist. But Tony develops the arrowheads, like the ones Natasha and Clint put themselves under with. We were discussing the properties of several different poisons, and how Juliet could have faked her own death. Tony’s inordinately fond of Japanese cuisine, and seemed really enthusiastic about tetrodotoxin, a poison found in fugu fish. It kills a small number of people in Japan each year if the fish isn’t prepared properly. Tony thought he could manufacture a new variation, which would explain the lack of vomiting and convulsions. He wanted to appear dead, as a last ditch exit strategy that would buy his rescuers more time, or potentially trick his captors into abandoning his body. If he thought he could conserve air by lowering his oxygen intake, this is exactly the kind of thing he’d do. 

“He didn’t even say goodbye.” Steve shouted. “He kept this to himself the entire time. Is that what you’re telling me?”

“There is some hope, I just administered fampridine, which can reverse the effects of tetrodotoxin, but it’s only been tested on animals, there is no official cure for tetrodotoxin poisoning, and I have no idea how Tony modified the batch. We need to get him to a proper hospital, quickly.”

They climbed out of the oubliette using a rope ladder and helped the agents escort the stretchers outside for air evacuation. As Steve walked past Coulson, he clasped his shoulder tightly. "I"m glad you're alive Phil, I'm sorry I'm not in a proper mood to celebrate. But... I am glad." Natasha and Clint were already starting to stir. Schmidt was trussed and strapped down in one of the holding cells aboard the carrier. Steve marched past the guards and punched him square in the jaw. 

“I didn’t think it was in you to hit a downed man, Captain,” Schmidt sneered. Steve kicked him in the face. 

They’d released Clint and Natasha from the gurneys. They were sleeping off the after effects of the drug in one of the beds, while Coulson slumped in a chair next to them, snoring softly. Steve couldn't watch them. Not with Tony in a coma.

Tony was hooked up to two separate I.V. drips, his color was horrible, but as Steve watched, there was a gentle and reassuring rise and fall to his chest that he hadn’t been able to see when they’d been sealed in the oubliette. His eyes were no longer vacant and glassy. He pulled one of the chairs toward the bed and allowed himself to hope. 

As they began to descend toward S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters. Steve startled awake. Tony’s hand was carding through his hair. He looked up, eyes wide. Tony was watching him. He couldn’t talk because they’d inserted a tube do his throat, but his eyes were wet. He looked horrible, but he was awake. Steve stood, and leaned over him until their foreheads touched. He closed his eyes. “You are in so much trouble, mister.” Tony’s hand squeezed his. 

Tony recovered slowly, with Steve bulling him into eating nutritious food, and occasionally slipping him burger king when the on call said he could have solid food. 

Natasha, Clint, and Coulson were on a temporary leave of absence, and Fury was on everyone's shit list.

When Tony was finally up and about, Steve confronted him. He set the food tray he was carrying down, the bowls and silverware wobbling dangerously. “What the hell were you thinking?”

Tony looked up, startled. “I was thinking if I was sucking in less oxygen, that maybe, just maybe, everyone else could live a little longer. That’s what I was thinking. You heard me wheezing and coughing, using more than twice the oxygen everyone else was. What the hell do you think I was thinking?” He winced, jerking the diagram he was working off the table and rolling it into a rough scroll. 

“You should have said something...you could have asked me.”

“And what would you have done?”  
“I would have stopped you.”  
“Which is why I didn’t ask.” Tony snapped. 

“You can’t just make decisions like that.”

“Why the hell not? Clint and Natasha did.”

“Clint and Natasha didn’t take experimental poison Tony, they didn’t have to watch each other die.”

Tony’s shoulders slumped, “I’m sorry. I thought you were out. I didn’t think... I saw you, you know.”

“What?”

Tony sighed, “I wasn’t dead. I was paralyzed, I could still see. I saw your face, when you thought I was dead, when you closed my eyes. I’m sorry I put you through that. I didn’t think...

“No, you didn’t!” 

“At at least I got to tell you.... I thought I might not be able to.”

“Tell me what?”

“You know what.”  
Steve took a menacing step forward. “No. You say it. Right now. I want to hear you say it.” 

Tony looked away, “I love you, you stubborn son of a -” 

Steve grabbed his face and kissed him harshly. Tony’s stubble scraped across his jaw. He nipped Tony’s lower lip and caught it between his teeth, hands pressing against his hips, digging. He nipped harder, until the skin was raw and tender and then licked the reddened strip by way of apology. “Don’t do it again... no stop. I know you can’t promise not to die, but you can damn well promise not to poison yourself like that. You are worth just as much as every other member of this team. Do you hear me? That was fucking stupid. Yeah. I said it. You've heard worse. Don’t do it again.” 

Tony stilled against him. “I’ll try. That’s all I can give you. I do crazy things, and I have a feeling I’d do almost anything for you. Here...” He handed Steve the bracelet. “Get rid of it, and tell Bruce I’m sorry.”

“Tell him yourself. He hasn't been around as much as I have, but he spent at least two or three nights sleeping outside of your room at the hospital while you were drugged out of your skull. Rhodey called, he’s taking vacation leave to come and see you. I’m not the only person you need to apologize to, and I’m not your middleman. 

“Yes, Captain,” Tony blanched. “Can you stick around and be my totally-not-a-shield-footrest-guy when I talk to Pepper?”

Steve gave him exasperated look. “I’ll think about it.” 

“I’ll make it worth your while.” Tony leered. 

“You bet your ass you will.” Steve replied, crossing his arms. 

“Feisty, I like that in a man.” 

Steve started to walk toward the steps. “Dinner tonight?”

“Lovely.”

“Isabella’s?”

“My favorite.”  
“Pepper’s joining us.”

Steve smiled as Tony’s wrench hit the floor with a clatter.

“See you at seven”

Tony flipped him the bird.

**Author's Note:**

> So... again. I hope you enjoy this, and I did have fun writing it. I have wonderful muses, but I take full responsibility for going there. Guh.


End file.
